Midnight
by paperback-writer3
Summary: Corday angst and lots of it. While she is wallowing in remorse, she receives an unexpected visitor, of the knight in not-so-shining armour variety. Takes place before/during Hindsight.COMPLETED
1. Insomnia

Ironically, she couldn't sleep. Her day at work had been horribly demanding. Halfway through her shift, she was ready to crawl back into bed. Somehow, she had managed to keep her eyes open. Miraculously, she hadn't killed anybody, although the temptation had been overwhelming when a certain chief of staff entered the OR while she was holding scalpel. After being drained of every once of physical and emotional strength she possessed, and more, she left the hospital to go to her other full time job: She was a mother. Once Ella had been fed, changed, bathed and tucked into bed, Elizabeth was finally free to sleep. Yet, when she finally lay her aching body down, no sleep came. So, here she was, wandering through the house like the crazed insomniac she was. Before she entered each room, she opened the door a crack and peered in like a timid child. She almost tricked herself into believe that if she repeated this exercise again and again, eventually she would find Mark dozing on the chesterfield. And then her life would be as it had been before his death. The way it should be. It was daft, she knew, but at 1:00 am, nothing made sense.  
  
Elizabeth eased open the living room door for the third time, and checked each of the overstuffed armchairs. No dead husbands here, she though bitterly, get a hold of yourself Elizabeth, he's not coming back. Dejectedly, she slumped down and allowed herself to be swallowed by the voluminous cushions on the chesterfield. She had cranked up the thermostat, but she was still shivering. It was the kind of cold that came from the inside. She wrapped herself in the woolen afghan around in a futile attempt to warm herself. On the coffee table, she spied the photo album that she had been flipping through the previous night. She set the book on her lap and began pouring of the glossy pages. This was all she had left of her husband. She longingly run her fingers over the images of the man who scarce months ago, had been in her arms. Tears fell silently from her eyes and splattered over the photographs. These snapshots of her past were like a sweet poison. She savoured the memories of Mark, but it ate away her inside, knowing that there would be no more.  
  
It was not an ache, as it had been those terrible first days. Time may not heal all wounds, or any wounds for that matter, but it proved to be a decent anaesthetic. It was not the emptiness she had felt as she peered down into the cold earth and saw that accursed black box known as a casket. Widowed or not, she was still Elizabeth Corday. Not the exactly the same person she had been, but a person nevertheless.  
She felt simply extinguished. Like there was a candle that had  
burned within her, fueling her soul, and then someone had dowsed with a bucked of ice water. She shuttered as she forced herself to see her future before her. It would be no great tragedy, but it would be hard. She had always been up to a challenge. However, without the steady glow of that internal spark, her motivation seemed evaporate. These days, she saw little point in living. The only reason she persisted was because the only other option would leave Ella orphaned.  
  
Through the dinning of her morbid contemplation, she though she heard something move outside. The noise was so subtle, she was not certain she had actually heard anything. Could it be wishful thinking. There it was again. Could it possible... Come off it Elizabeth, she mentally scolded herself, your he's going to just show up on your doorstep. All this sleep deprivation is making your imagination play tricks on you. However, she heard the mysterious sound once again and this time in was unmistakable. Someone was walking towards her front door. She threw off the blanket and scampered to the entranceway. She unlocked the door and peered out, only half expecting to find anyone. Yet she saw a familiar face from the hospital, approaching her door with a package under his arm. 


	2. The Visitor

Disclaimer: I do not own ER or any of the charactors therein. Hence, this story contains charactors that I do not own.  
  
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone for your reviews. I guarantee you that this fic will have an ending, because, as of the first posting, I had already written it all. This is the second out of three posts. Keep in mind that this section takes place a day or two before the epsiode 'Hindsight'. And now the moment you've all been waiting for, we find out who Corday's mystery man is. . . (scroll down)  
  
* *  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Dr. Kovach," exclaimed Elizabeth. Why on earth is he at my door at this unholy hour?.  
  
"Good morning Dr. Corday," he replied, smiling nervously.  
  
"Why. . .?" she asked incredulously.  
  
"You dropped Ella's mittens," he explained, "and I'd hate to think of her little hands being cold. I just finished my shift, so I decided to come by and drop them in the mailbox."He walked the final few feet to the doorstep and placed a paper bag containing a bundle of mutlicoloured fleece in her hand.  
  
" I didn't mean to wake you," he apologized.  
  
"Don't worry," she said wearily, "I haven't been sleeping much lately."  
  
His eyes met hers, she saw a sort of benevolent understanding in his expression. After pausing for a moment, he turned his gaze downward and suddenly found his shoes very interesting.  
  
"Thank you," she said, breaking the awkward lull, "for the mittens, I mean."  
  
"Your welcome, " he said, "I'll see you around, at work. Happy holidays." Reluctantly he turned around and began trudging back to his car, which was parked in her driveway.  
  
"Wait, " she said in spite of herself, "It's terribly cold outside. Would you like to come in for something warm to drink."  
  
Luka stopped, then turned around.  
  
"I hear the British are famous for there tea," he said, once again using his knowledge of national products to impress a woman, "and that is something I would be glad to experience first hand. Through her many layers of grief and sadness, she found herself returning his radiant grin. As she set the kettle on the stove she caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the hanging pots and realized why he looked so bemused. She was a mess. Her eyes were red and puffy, and there were wet lines where the tears had streamed down her face. Her hair was an erratic tangle of curls that resembled a large birds' nest. To top it off, the robe she wore over her pyjamas was quite possible the oldest, rattiest article of clothing she owned.  
  
"I'm terribly sorry, I must look a fright," she apologized, blushing slightly. and started go nip upstairs to attempt to make herself presentable, but he gently touched her shoulder to stop her.  
  
"Don't worry," he said warmly, "there are very few people who can beautiful this early in the morning," he lightly stroked one of her wayward curls, "and you are one of them."  
  
Now it was her turn to stare at the floor. For the first time in weeks, she felt genuinely warm. Rather hot, in fact. Probably another symptom of this chronic lack of sleep, said her internal voice.  
  
Just then the kettle whistled indignantly. Elizabeth busied herself with preparing two cups of tea. She turned to Luka to ask him how he took he tea, to find that he had already went to the refrigerator and fetched the milk and sugar. When the tea was fixed, they both looked at the kitchen table. It was still laden with the dishes from breakfast and dinner.  
  
Elizabeth smiled sheepishly.  
  
"Perhaps, we should sit in the living room," she suggested.  
  
He nodded and they proceeded to the next room with their steaming cups. Elizabeth retained her seat on the chesterfield and Luka took the chair across from her. They sipped quietly, each gazing at the other over the rim of his or her teacup.  
  
"It is very good," he complimented.  
  
He glanced down at the photo album open on the table.  
  
"Was this taken in New York?" he asked, pointing to a picture of Mark in front of the city's skyline.  
  
"Yes, " she answered wistfully, "we spent New Year's Eve there, while Mark was having his tumor removed." Merely pronouncing his name made tears start to collect behind her eyes. She hurriedly closed the album and sought a place to put it away. Luka put his hand on hers.  
  
"Excuse, I was just reminiscing, um, before you came..., " she stammered, meeting his eyes again.  
  
"I know," he said softly, " I know very well. I often do the same. My wife, she died also, five years ago."  
  
He saw her eyes become glassy, as she found it increasingly difficult to hold in the tears. He set his cup down on the table and sat down beside her.  
  
"It is alright to cry, " he whispered soothingly, placing an arm around her shoulder. She leaned on his shoulder.  
  
"Does it-will it...," she sobbed, "This feeling, does it every go away?"  
  
Luka wanted with all his heart to tell that in few short years, she would recover from that emotional blow. He wished he say that in by this time next years, her dreams would not longer be haunted by the ghost her husband. Luka wanted to help. But of late, he had realized that he was absolutely useless at helping anybody.  
  
"No, it doesn't," he said ruefully, holding her closer.  
  
"I didn't think so," said she cynically into his shoulder. She looked up and him with tears streaming down her face and laughed bitterly, "Just thought I'd ask, no harm in asking."  
  
She sighed, dejectedly and resuming crying with her head pressed to his chest. Hesitantly, he stroked her damp cheek with his thumb. He found himself dumbfounded as he regarded the women shaking with grief in his arms. He had always viewed Elizabeth as a very strong, non-nonsense type of woman, perhaps even a little callous. Yet, here she was, pouring on to him more emotion that he had ever imagined she possessed.  
  
He nuzzled his face in her coarse hair. How sweet the scent of a woman was... He wondered to himself, how did I get here? I was just going to drop off the mittens and maybe to the bar. Now, here I am, with woman trembling in my arms. . .All things considered, he realized with delight, this is more or less where I hopped be. Maybe I won't be spending tonight alone after all, Luka thought cunningly.  
  
He rested his cheek against hers, the muted sound of her weeping echoing in his ear. She wrapped her arm around his neck and held on to him as if her Gently, he pressed her back into the luxurious cushions. She didn't resist. Luka smiled to himself. In her grief, she had surrendered herself completely to him. Tenderly, he dug his fingers into her tangled hair, holding her face precious millimeters from his.  
  
She has such wonderful, thick hair, Luka thought to himself idly, just like Danjella. Suddenly all he could see in his mind's eye was an image of his late wife smiling at him. God, he missed her. Trying to return his focus to the woman in his embrace, he looked deep into her eyes. She missed someone as well.  
  
Guiltily, he wonder what would have happen if he had been at home with the kids that fateful night instead Danjella. What if he had died and she had lived? What this was Daniella now, lying on the couch, with a man she barely knew about to kiss her. Luka shuttered at the though of some brute taking his widow while the wound in her heart was still in the process of healing. Though Luka had ceased believing in Heaven years ago, he had the nagging image of Mark looking down at him stuck in his head. He returned to reality, to Elizabeth's breath tickling his face. Numbly he receded from her and sat up. He vowed silently that he would never do such a horrible thing to Elizabeth, or to Mark's memory.  
  
But could he trust himself to keep that vow? The last few mouths had been filled with indulgences that had left his willpower weak. He softy traced the collar of her robe with his fingers. Her eyes followed the movements of his hands. He knew she was scared and her fear made her all the more vulnerable. His Achilles' heel was the female body, he realized with shame. Nevertheless, he proceed in parting the two flaps on the front her robe. Then he chuckled.  
  
"Never pictured you as much of a hockey player," he whispered, withdrawing his hand.  
  
"The jersey is Mark's," she replied hoarsely, "but I like to wear it around the house. It's silly I know, but it's like a little bit of him is still with."  
  
She couldn't believe that she had just revealed another of her slightly- mentally-unstable-widow habits to him. She really needed to get some sleep.  
  
"It's not silly," he told her, "I always carry Danjella's handkerchief in my pocket, so I never forget her." He took out a small, clear plastic bag from his pocket and remove a square of delicate white fabric. He unfolded it to show her the detailed embroidery.  
  
"It's beautiful, " said Elizabeth, "did she do the embroidery herself?"  
  
"Yes," he answered, as his eyes suddenly becoming misty. He had to change the subject quicky before he started bawling as well.  
  
"I knew never that Mark played hockey," he said tactlessly.  
  
"Well, he had quite the vigorous highschool career as a bench warmer, " she said, remembering fondly, "Didn't Mulucci ever tell you about the time he played hockey with Mark?" Luka nodded no.  
  
"Well, you see," she began wistfully, " Mulucci's pick-up hockey team was short one. .." And thus Elizabeth narrated the tale. Of course, that story reminded Luka of the one time he made a rink in his backyard for his kids, and he shared that story with Elizabeth. Before long, they found themselves swapping anecdote after anecdote about their deceased spouses. The clock struck three just as Luka concluded the story of the first time he met his wife's parents. It was a rather humourous narrative, and both Luka and Elizabeth found themselves laughing harder than either had in months. When the laughter had subsided, Elizabeth flicked a tear off Luka's face.  
  
"Dear God, now you're crying too," she said bemusedly, "Look at us, we're just a couple of sobbing lunatics." Luka chuckled, causing more tears to spill down his face. Crying felt good. It had been much too long since he last cried. "Speaking of lunatics,"he sniffled, "Daniella worked a few months as a nurse in the psych ward of the hospital back home. . ."  
  
***************** Sunlight danced across Luka's face, awakening him from his dreamless sleep. Looking around, he found that he was in an unfamiliar setting, with an unfamiliar woman lying next to him. Dear Lord, he cursed mentally, what had he done this time? He recognized the tear-streaked face of Elizabeth Corday rested on his shoulder. Slowly, the events of the nights came back. We was quite proud of himself. He had spent a night on a couch, with a woman, without getting undressed.  
  
Carefully, he stood up without disturbing her. He tiptoed towards the front door. Apparently, he was not entirely awake yet, because he bumped into a small a table and knocked over a pile of books, which landed noisily on the floor. Elizabeth opened one eye. "Dr. Kovach?" she said groggily, "Were are you going?"  
  
"Home,"he replied, " I would not want your daughter to wake up and find a strange man in the house."  
  
"What does she care?" she said with a smile, "She was conceived outside of wedlock. You'll find, Dr. Kovach, that I'm not your typical British prude."  
  
"Please," he said, "call me Luka."  
  
"Okay then, Luka, I'll see you at work," with that she turned over and went back to sleep. 


	3. Redemption

Here is the third and final post. The story probably could been complete without this post, but I feel it needs a chapter about Luka. This part takes place the day after the Christmas party at susan's aka the day before the evening Luka and Harkins got smashed up in a car accident in 'Hindsight'.  
  
Thanks to all who reviewed,for keeping me on my toes about the spelling of characters'names. I thrive on feedback.  
  
No thanks to my computer that crashed and delayed this final post.  
  
Note: I have forgotten the name of the social worker in the wheelchair, so I have called her Alana for the purposes of this fic.  
  
And just in case anyone cares, I don't own ER.  
  
*********  
  
"This is the fourth MVA this weekend!" remarked Gallant to other doctors who were shivering as they waited for the ambulances to arrive.  
  
"Better get used to it ," replied Susan, "once the roads get icy, pileup season begins."  
  
Kerry pushed open the door and stepped outside, followed by Pratt and Abby.  
  
"It turns out there sending us four of the five survivors, instead of only three," Kerry informed them. She was assigning the patients to doctors, just as the ambulances pulled up.   
  
Luka winced inside as the ambulance doors opened. His patience was a little girl who had a large shard of glass protruding from her forehead, and was quite thoroughly cover with blood. As the paramedic reported to Luka the girl's name and vitals, the tiny patient looked up a the doctor with big, imploring brown eyes. She reminded so much of his daughter Jasna it made him sick.  
  
"Where's my mommy?" she whimpered, "I want to see my mommy."  
  
"Don't worry,"Luka assured her as they brought her inside, "We'll find her. "  
  
Luka had never told anyone, but treating young trauma victims pained him most out of all the heart-wrenching tasks his profession required him to preform.  
  
***********************  
  
"Time of death: 14:56," pronounced Susan, setting the paddles down.  
  
Gallant looked down at the woman lying limply on the table.   
  
"Did they ever find her kids or her husband?" he asked.  
  
"There were quite a few a DOA's at the scene," replied Abby, "Her husband was taken to Nothwestern, and he's in critical condition.  
  
'  
  
Luka entered from the adjacent trauma room. He stopped short when he saw the corpse.   
  
"Is this Melanie McNeil ?" he asked.  
  
Susan nodded.  
  
What the miniscule amount of hope that Luka had had evaporated.  
  
"My patient is her daughter," he sighed, "She's in stable condition, but I promised her that I would find her mother."  
  
"Well you found her, didn't you?" replied Abby coldly.  
  
************************  
  
Luka flipped through the charts, trying to find one with symptoms that didn't sound particularly fatal. He only had half an hour left on his shift, and he had had his fill of tradegy for the day.   
  
"What'd you think," he consulted Susan, who was standing nearby, "flu or sore throat.  
  
"I'll take the sore throat"  
  
He handed her the chart and headed to exam one. Through the blinds he could see a young african-american man with a woman who looked about the same age . Luka was just about to open the door when someone called his name from behind him . He turned to see Kerry.  
  
"I'll take your patient," she said, "Dr. Romano wants to see you in his office ASAP."  
  
She exchanged the memo for the chart and was on her way. Luka just stood there for a minute, staring into space. Part of the reason his suspension a had been so brief was that there would be 'other remedial measures taken, at a later date'. It seemed that a later date had come. His steps heavy with dread, he boaded the elevator. Once it had reached the surgical floor, he got off and almost immediately bumped into Dr. Corday.   
  
"Luka!" she greeted him, with more enthusiasm than she wanted to show.  
  
"Hello, Elizabeth," he said. In the daylight, she was even more than in the dim light of her living room. He admired the elegant arch of her neck, the determined sparkle in her deep brown eyes. . .   
  
"Where are you off to?" she asked, snapping him out of his awestruck trance.  
  
"Down to the fiery pits of hell," he answered, gesturing toward the hallways that lead to Dr. Romano's office.  
  
She smiled. "Good luck," she said, "and have a good holiday. Perhaps I'll see you later."  
  
"That would be wonderful," he whispered to himself as she passed him to get on the elevator. ****** Somehow, Luka had survived his encounter with the chief of staff.  
  
At first, he had been relieved to find out that he did not have to spend an extended period of time with the arrogant worm who was in charge of the hospital's staff. His relief turned right back to dread when Romano abandoned him in a small, stuffy room with the five dullest human beings on the face of the earth. These were representatives for the Association for   
  
******  
  
Somehow, Luka had survived a doctor's worst nightmare.  
  
At first, he had been relieve to find out that he did not have to spend an extended period of time with the arrogant worm who was in charge of the hospital's staff. His relief turned right back to dread when Romano abandoned him in a small, stuffy room with the five dullest human being on the face of the earth. These were representatives for the Association for the Creation and Maintenance of Safe and Productive Workplaces in Health Care of Illinois, an associate who's sole propose was to waste doctors' valuable time.  
  
"The reason you are here, Dr. Luka Kovac,"one worker stated listlessly, "is to get to the root of your problem so that, together, we can find an effective solution."  
  
This statement was followed by the most excruciating emotion dissection imaginable. Peering over their clipboards, they asked him question after pointless question in their monotone voices. A good portion of the questions were vague and roundabout, and pertained to mysterious entities such as Team Dynamics and Interpersonal Strength. The rest of the questions pried into his personal, into things he did not want to discuss with strangers. This intrusive bunch included a women with a shrill voice, whose vocabulary seemed to be the phrase : "Could you please elaborate on that?", which she demanded after each of Luka's responses. For the first time in his life, Luka found himself wishing that he was down in the ER. When the relentless questioning finally came to an end, the team quickly came to the consensus that any deep, emotional problems that their subject had could be solved with ten sessions with one of the Association's therapists.   
  
As she was leaving the room, the woman with the high-pitched voice patted his hand and flashed him a smile full of crooked teeth.  
  
"There now, " she said condescendingly, "doesn't that feel better, getting all that off your chest."  
  
No, he thought as he rode the elevator, it doesn't. In fact, I feel worse than I did before I went up there. I honestly don't see how having my soul torn apart and poked and probed by strangers who couldn't care less is supposed to benefit me.  
  
He stepped off the elevator and was immediately was affronted by Pratt holding a bundle of straws.  
  
"How'd it go?" he asked.  
  
"I still have a job," Luka replied.  
  
They proceeded to the admit desk, were most of the other doctors and nurses who had handled the MVA victims earlier.  
  
"Luka's here, now we can pick straws," announced Pratt. Everybody selected a straw from Pratt's handful. They compared their straws for length and concluded that Gallant's was the shortest.   
  
"What does that mean?" asked Luka, who had no idea what the straws had to do with anything.   
  
"I have to go tell that little girl from this morning's MVA that all of her family is dead," Gallant answered solemnly.  
  
"Where their any survivors from the other vehicle?" inquired Luka, though he was afraid of the answer.  
  
"I don't think so,"replied Abby.   
  
Jerry, who had been listening to the entire conversation, turned around.  
  
"It turns out," he said, "that the teenaged girl who came in after the others with facial lacerations was also in involved in that MVA. She arrived just in time to find out that she was an orphan."  
  
*********The remainder of Luka's shift expired uneventfully. He was about to head to the lounge to collect his belongings, when he began to wonder about his young patient who had lost her family. He had a strange urge to see how she was doing. He located the room she was in, but he couldn't bare to enter. After all, he had broken his promise. He had not been able to bring the little girl to her mother. Melanie McNeill's death was beyond Luka's control, but he still felt responsible.  
  
Luka squinted between the blinds to catch a glimpse of his bereaved patient. She was sitting up in her bed, sharing a box of tissue with another, somewhat older, girl, as they wept together sorrowfully. The second girl, who Luka did not recognize, had bandages covering most of her face. Despite the tears, Luka's patient did not seem as utterly devastated as he had expected. Perhaps this had something to do with the comfort from her roommate. The older girl had the pale, thin hand of Luka's patient in her own. Even from his narrow viewpoint, Luka could sense the girl drawing strength from each other.   
  
He noticed a third figure in the room. It was Alana, the social worker, talking to the girls and jotting down some notes. After awhile, Alana gave each girl a reassuring pat on the shoulder and wheeled out of the room.   
  
"How is she doing,"asked Luka as soon as the door shut.  
  
"Better than I expected." replied the social worker.  
  
"She seems to be getting on with her roommate," commented Luka.  
  
"That's the funniest thing," said Alana, "Olivia there, the older girl, was the only survivor of the other family involved in that incident," she pause thoughtfully, still going over her conversation with the girls in her head, "It's almost as if their common loss has brought them together." She peered up at the tall doctor, " They both have a long, difficult road ahead of them, but I have a gut feeling about these two. Crazy as it may sound, I think they're going to be alright in the long run, as long as they stick together. Well, now I have some phone calls to make. Hopefully I can find a spot in a group home for them together. Happy Holidays, Dr. Kovac."  
  
"Happy Holidays," he replied, and they were both on their way.  
  
********   
  
Luka stared listlessly into the dark abyss of his coffee cup. His shift had ended nearly an hour ago, but he was still sitting in the lounge, wallowing in self-pity. Damn americans, can't even make a decent cup of coffee. What he wouldn't give to be back in Croatia. To have his wife and children back. . .   
  
His train of thought was interrupted as Susan entered the room.  
  
"You're lucky Weaver took your flu patient," she said as she opened her locker, "apparently he has leukemia, and now he's up in the ICU. It's a good thing we were able to catch it so soon."  
  
"Like they say," said Luka, "There are no easy cases."  
  
"Didn't you get off a while ago?" she asked.  
  
"I'm hiding from Harkins" he improvised feebly.  
  
"She seems to have a thing for you," chuckled Susan as she closed her locker and headed for the door, "See you later, Luka. Merry Christmas."  
  
"Merry Christmas."  
  
In a sort of melancholy trance, Luka collected his belonging and left the building. Then he saw her. She was thoroughly bundled up against the cold, trudging through the ankle-deep snow.  
  
"Elizabeth," he called after her, and she turned to face him.  
  
"Luka," she exclaimed through the scarf that covered her mouth. The majority of her face was obscured by the blue and white checked woolen monstrosity, but Luka liked to think that she smiled when she saw him.   
  
She looked around to make sure no one was around. Looking nervously down at the ground, she said to him, "I'd like to thank you, Luka, for being such a gentleman, last night."  
  
For the first time all day, Luka didn't feel as though the weigh of the worlds was weighing down on him.   
  
"Your welcome," he said, finding that her presence had made it nearly impossible for him to think up anything witty or suave to say.   
  
"I'd love to stay and chat," she said, "but I have to catch the next EI train so I can get home before Ella's sitter leaves."  
  
"I could give you a ride," he suggested, "that is, if you'd like."  
  
"I would like that very much," she replied, and they both headed toward his parking spot, "your Viper is quite famous up in the OR. All the male surgeons are positively green with envy."  
  
They reached the sleek black car, and Elizabeth stopped suddenly.  
  
"I will let you drive me home on one condition," she said with a smile, "I get to drive."  
  
He tossed her the keys and they were on their way.  
  
THE END 


End file.
